Ace's Round: Take-out Takedown
by Battlegrinder
Summary: The Ace's round is a strongly held tradition among mercenaries. The procedure is simple. Everyone tells a story, and the most impressive story earns one merc the title of Ace...and the tab for the next round of drinks. Sometimes a really good story will come out of such a contest, Other times, a great one. This story is part of the Blackstar Chronicles series.


Mercenaries have some strange traditions and habits, their origin, meaning, and function largely lost to time. The so called "Ace's round" is not one of them. The traditional exchange of stories serves one purpose: booze (so do most of the others, but they usually try to justify themselves some other way). The procedure is simple enough that even the most inebriated trooper can keep it straight: tell the most impressive story you can, and whoever tells the best one has to pay for the next round of drinks, since they're clearly the most successful and can afford it. You would think that leads to people trying to avoid claiming the title of "Ace" in order to hang onto their cash, but mercs aren't known for being that smart with money.

The bar my team and I were lounging in had seen its fair share of such contests, and ones as heated as this one were rare. Cahaun and I were locked in a struggle for first place, while Dimitri's own experiences gave him a solid hold on second. Karaai was trailing in third, a fate shared by most medics and technicians, though her experience with Vular fighting had at least let her outpace poor Allison, who was dead last (and not happy about it).

"Come on, I was there during when you guys stormed the Red Sun frigate, what makes his story," she said as she pointed at me, "Any more impressive than mine?"

"Because Vance took down a giant monster and a DIY tank, and pulled a daring rescue after you got hit during the extraction. While all you did was clobber your own rescue team when we opened you cell." Said Cahaun. His grin turned into a grimace second later as Allison kicked him in the shin. "Ok, the thing with taking out three guys by yourself was cool, but you really should have seen that monster. When you mange to pull of the old "shove a length of pipe in a monster's mouth so it can't bit you" trick, then we'll talk."

"As amusing as it is watching you two argue, can we wrap this up soon? I'm gonna need a refill soon." Said Karaai, waving a half empty mug.

"Sure thing. You planning on paying this time?" I asked, getting a snort in return.

"Yeah, right. It's your turn, by the way."

I leaned back in my seat, trying to think of a story that I hadn't told yet. Cahaun had rolled out a new story a few minutes earlier, about an operation he'd pulled during the Uprisings. I was tempted to counter with a war story of my own, but I'd told all the good ones so often that they were getting dull. And no one wanted to hear about the great sewer battle of 2355, no matter how awesome it was. However, that incident reminded me of another, slightly more recent tale, one I hadn't shared yet.

"Ok, Everyone. Let's see you top this." I said as I began to lay out my tale.

* * *

My last "normal" day had been more than a decade ago, and my life since then had been much more interesting then I'd previously imagined. I'd left the Marine Corps 2 years ago, and signed up with Silver Shield Protection and Investigation shortly thereafter. Currently I was on Korbal, wrapping up a body guarding assignment that had gone pear-shaped almost from day one. As my protectee vanished into an SSPI shuttle bound for who knew where, I gave the departing craft a wave and started making my way toward the agency's office, hoping the corporate mercs I'd been dodging for the past week would call off their pursuit now that professor and whatever miraculous gadget he'd invented were out of their reach.

Korbal had been a rather backwater planet until the Uprisings saw it become a logistical hub for the UC military, and the transition from unremarkable dirtball to full-fledged mega-colony was still underway. Newly-built skyscrapers cast their shadow over prefab hab complexes, the landing fields were being rebuilt and expanded to accommodate the increased traffic, and affluent locals were trading out their old vehicles for the latest model of hovercar. Korbal was well on its way to becoming one of the so called "core worlds", with all the pros and cons that come with it.

I noticed one of those cons loitering outside the SSPI offices. I'd spent enough time hanging around the agency's PI's to recognize the tattoos he sported, linking him to one of the Yakuza syndicates, and judging by how new the ink looked, he was a recent recruit. Evidentially organized crime had started moving onto Korbal along with the new expansions. Seeing me approach, the inductee fled, perhaps unwilling to risk a confrontation with any SSPI operatives, especially ones wearing full body armor.

Inside SSPI, I noticed that many of the people inside seemed on edge. Several of the field agents were openly carrying holstered weapons in defiance of the regulations concerning such things, and I saw several "direct intervention operatives" (SSPI's version of police SWAT teams) patrolling the building in full riot gear. As soon as I checked in with the receptionist, I found myself being ordered to report in with Agent Stoneshaft, the director of operations here on Korbal.

Entering the office, The massive Ursan gestured for me to close the door behind me. Stoneshaft had clearly spent time in the field, and judging by the cybernetic arm protruding from his suit and the jagged scar along his jaw, he'd had a rough time there.

'Agent Dawes, I'm afraid we're going to have to dispense with the pleasantries today. We're in a tight spot at the moment, and you're one of the few people on this planet who can help get us out of it." He said.

"You're familiar with the Yakuza, correct?" He asked, getting a nod in return. "Good. They've been expanding their operation here, and both the local police and our own agents have been hard pressed to stop them. Two months ago, we got a break. A joint investigation between our office and local law enforcement resulted in the arrest of the syndicate's ringleader, Akimoto Akira. He's in jail right now, awaiting trial, and once he's convicted he's going away for life."

"Unfortunately, there's a complication. Mina Ogata, the prosecution's lead witness, disappeared from police custody last night. The officers assigned to guard her were found dead, and the house where she'd been staying showed signs of forced entry." He said.

"Let me guess, no Mina, no conviction?" I said, guessing where this was going.

"Something like that. There's enough evidence to put Akira away without her testimony, but only for a few years, and that's a longshot. At worst, he could be back on the street in less than a year. Right now, we have 36 hours to get Mina the courthouse. If we don't the judge will start dropping charges." Responded Stoneshaft.

"Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it. This morning, a team of SSPI and police investigators held a meeting to coordinate the search for Mina. When they got to the meeting site, they were ambushed by Yakuza thugs. We lost some of our best people in that attack." He paused for a moment, glancing at a farmed picture on the wall. "It's become clear that there's a leak somewhere in SSPI or the Korbal police department. I don't know who's trustworthy and who isn't, and I have to assume that this office has been thoroughly compromised." I started to figure out where this was going. "Except for you, and the handful of other operatives that have managed to arrive within the past day. You don't have any connections to Korbal, which means if anyone here can be trusted, it's you."

"I can't offer you much information or backup, and neither can the police. There are less than a dozen uncompromised agents on hand, and the Yakuza will stop at nothing to prevent Akira's conviction. We don't know where Mina is being held, or even if she's still alive."

The image of a battered velvet box, still smelling of smoke and dust flashed into my mind. The gassed civilians in Praetoria City, the ravaged interior of the Promixa lab, and a dozen other scenes followed it. I hadn't been able to save those people, but this time, I could. Stoneshaft was saying something about understanding if I back out when I interrupted.

"Give me every bit of data you have on the syndicate, a map, and a copy of every police report in the last 24 hours. If you know a trustworthy analyst, I'll need his contact info." Stoneshaft seemed surprised, but quickly transferred the data over to my PDA.

"I'm afraid our data analysts are the people that I trust the least right now, so you'll have to do this yourself. What are you looking for?" He asked.

"A target, and some allies. I'll keep you posted." I said as a marched out of the office, leaving a befuddled Stoneshaft wondering what I was planning. Leaving the building, I noted that goon I'd seen earlier was nowhere to be found, and wondered what he'd been doing in the first place. I headed over to a nearby café to start sorting through the files Stoneshaft had sent me.

A few hours later, I'd made a few calls and secured some backup, but my hunt for clues to Mina's location was far less productive. I wasn't used to sorting through page after page of intelligence data, and nothing I'd read had screamed "This is where they'd hold a high-value prisoner". The only information I'd found useful was the name of Arika's second in command, Shiko Oda. If anyone knew where Mina was, he would. Unfortunately, no one seemed to know where _he_ was either. I had a gut feeling that he was making sure Mina stayed secure, which would mean that he was probably overseeing her containment personally. _Find him, find the girl_, I thought. I put the PDA away as I struggled to think of someway to locate the deputy crime lord. Inspiration struck when spotted a tattooed syndicate goon sitting obliviously at a nearby table.

The thug's first inkling of my new plan came a few second later, when I smashed a chair into the back of head. Winded, he tried to get back to his feet, only to be pushed back down when I planted a boot on his spine. "Hey, scumbag! Where's your boss?"

After a few curses that I don't feel the need to repeat, I grabbed the goon and tossed him through the café window. Stepping out through the broken glass, I repeated the question, and this time received a much more helpful answer. He blurted out a name and location, one that matched the information SSPI had on a low ranking syndicate recruiter. Leaving the now-unconscious thug propped behind me, I moved on to my next target.

Almost a day later, after a dozen brawls and several more defenestrations, I'd finally tracked down Oda. He'd been hiding out in a Yakuza-owned restaurant, and according to my thermal camera, so was Mina. At least, I couldn't think of anyone else the syndicate would want to keep tied up and guarded in the back room of one of their hideouts. My continued surveillance revealed that almost every "customer" inside the restaurant was armed, along with the staff and several pedestrians wandering around outside. They were likely all Yakuza members. I spent twenty minutes on top of a nearby balcony trying to find a way through the guard's patrol routes, but was eventually forced to give up. I was tempted to take the risk of calling in an assault team from either the police or SSPI when I noticed a newspaper clipping lying nearby. The cover story was discussing a recent police chase that had ended when the fleeing suspect had crashed their car into an empty warehouse and been trapped inside. Scenes from several old action movies played in my head as I formatted a new plan.

I had less then two hours left after I completed my preparations. I ran one last check, knowing that one screw-up would spell doom. I made one last phone call as I completed the last safety check. "This is Vance. Be ready to cover me, this is going to get hot." I said. I looked toward my target and took a deep breath. "Ok, here goes nothing." I said as I floored the accelerator.

The Yakuza hideout was built to withstand a lot. They'd designed it to handle extreme weather, fires, police sieges, and even assault by rival criminals. It had not, however, been designed to stop a twenty ton garbage truck going at full speed. The security posts, designed to stop lightweight civilian vehicles, were smashed aside in an instant. As my hijacked truck crashed through the buildings facade, I carefully steered it towards the back wall, slammed on the brakes, and braced for impact. The massive truck punched through the wall in front of me, and crashed into the wall behind that it, mashing an unlucky thug into paste as it did so. Fortunately, the truck came to a stop before it punched through that wall too, leaving me in exactly the right spot.

I kicked the door open, and heard a loud thunk as it collided with one of the guards who'd been guarding Mina. I put an amp round through the last guards head, and quickly sliced through the ropes securing Mina. I heard running footsteps coming from the door leading into this room (which looked to be a storage closest in addition to a prison cell), and tossed a grenade down the corridor to buy some time.

"Who are you?" shouted Mina, her eyes wide with shock and fear…some of which was probably my fault.

"my name's Vance Dawes, I'm here to rescue you!' I said, using a heavy shelve to barricade the door. Having done what I could to stall pursuit, I turned back to the truck and yanked one a handle crudely welded onto the truck's storage compartment. I yanked the handle, popping off the panel I'd cut. Stepping into the still foul smelling compartment, I turned back to Mina. "Come with me if you want to live." I said, offering her my hand. She took it, and I hauled her up into the truck.

I heard the barricaded door crash open behind us, and tossed out another grenade. Moving from memory, I climbed onto the motorcycle and guided Mina onto the seat. "Hold on, this is gonna get rough!" I said as I gunned the engine. The explosives I'd attached to the massive door at the end of storage bed went off, and seconds later the two of us shot out over the newly created ramp. Badly aimed gunfire bounced filled the air for a few seconds, and then we were clear, tires squealing as they transitioned from shattered wood to asphalt.

"You do know they'll come after us, right?" Asked Mina, spotting the various high-performance cars and bikes scattered around the restaurant.

"No, they won't." I said, keeping track of the countdown. Normally, I'd have slashed the tires and cut fuel lines to prevent pursuit, but in this case that hadn't been an option, and I'd had to resort to a more direct solution. We were less then a block away when the rest of the explosives I'd rigged to the truck went off, swallowing the restaurant and anyone nearby in a massive fireball.

We'd gotten less than a quarter of the way to the courthouse when I heard the sound of highly tuned engines coming up from behind us. I glanced back at our pursuers, and gulped as I saw nearly a dozen other bikes closing in on us. The Yakuza must have had another safe house nearby, and someone had spotted Mina and I making our getaway. I passed her my gun.

"Do you know how to use one of these?" I asked, hollering over the sound of my bike's roaring engine.

"NO! I'm an accountant, not a soldier!" Came the reply.

"It's easy, just point and shot." I said, angling between a pair of cars and barely making it through the gap. The pursing riders lost a few seconds as they flowed around vehicles, but the stunt had only bought us a few seconds. Mina started squeezing off shots, but had no luck bring down any of the yakuza.

"This is hopeless, I can't hit anything with this!" She said.

"That's not the point, you're just trying to slow them down. It's called suppressive fire." I answered, jinxing to the side to dodge a burst of submachine gun fire from one of riders.

"What was that?!" She screamed, clinging to me for dear life.

"That's what we call oppressive fire," I answer. "Just keep shooting, we only need to go a few more blocks."

Mina keep up a steady but inaccurate barrage, and as the riders noticed her inexperience, they begin to close the distance. Mina nailed one of them with a lucky shot, but the rest kept coming. Mina fired off a dozen more rounds, then stopped.

"I think its dead. What do we do now?" She asked.

"Say hello to the angels." I replied, a wide grin splitting my face.

"Stop being so morbid and come up with something! I don't want to die here!" She said.

"No, not those angels," I said, then pointed ahead. "Those angels."

The dull roar of dozens of V-twin engines filled our ears, as a horde of Harley Davidson motorcycles surged out of a side street. They charged toward the Yakuza chasing us, and for moment I was reminded of a horseback cavalry charge. That impression was shattered as shotguns boomed out, taking out several of our pursers, and then it came back as several more yakuza riders were brought down by clubs, tire irons, and other instruments. As the two groups brawled, a small force of the Harley riders surrounded us in an escort formation. Mina got a good look at the logo on one of the biker's vest, and blanched as she recognized the famous death's head insignia.

"You're not serious. You made a deal with the Hell's Angel's?!"

"The cops and SSPI where compromised by the syndicate, so I needed to find someone else who had good cause to want Akira off the street." I replied.

"You are completely insane." She said, after a pause.

"It's been suggested." I was interrupted by the sound of additional yakuza riders closing in. "How many of these guys do they have?" I asked, before switch over to more practical matters. I turned to the nearest angel. "Got a spare shotgun?"

He nodded and tossed me the gun. As the next wave closed in, my comlink started ringing. Slipping the headset into my ear, I quickly checked to see if the shotgun was in working order. Aside from a few modifications of dubious legality, it seemed to be in good shape.

"Vance, what's going on out there? I'm hearing reports about bombs going off and a full scale biker war breaking out, and several witnesses claim to have spotted someone matching your description at several of the scenes!" Hollered Stoneshaft.

"It's complicated. I've secured the witness and am transporting her to the courthouse as we speak. I'll fill you in on the details later." I replied, cutting my bike's speed and causing one of our pursuers to overtake us. The shotgun blew a hole through the rider's chest, and anther syndicate goon crashed into the wreck as the dead rider tumbled off his bike.

"Was that a gunshot? Vance, what are you doing?"

I turned the shotgun around to fire at another rider, and brought him down as well. "Sorry boss, little busy right now." I jinxed right to dodge a burst of SMG fire, and was about to fire off another shotgun blast when one of the angels took down the yakuza rider for me. I checked over my other shoulder for additional targets, but that guy was the last one.

We shot around the corner, and were finally in sight of the courthouse. As Mina and I pulled up, along with our escorts, dozens of news camera pivoted to face our way. We hurried up the courthouse steps, keeping an eye on the road in case the syndicate decided to try anything else. A group of cops emerged from the build, guns drawn. I waved the angels back and tossed the shotgun back to it's originally owner, and turned to face the cops.

"I believe you've been looking for her," I said, pointing to Mina. "Good luck with your case."

I hurried back down the courthouse steps as the cops escorted Mina inside. "Thanks for your help, I couldn't have done this without you." I said to angels.

"Anytime you need my help, just let me know. I'll always have your back, Sarge." Said Adams, leader of the Korbal chapter of the Hell's Angels, and formerly know as Corporal Adams, UCMC Commandos.

"I'll keep that in mind." I said as I climbed back onto my bike. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get off this rock before someone figure out who's responsible for this mess."

* * *

Four slightly stunned faces looked back at me as I finished my tale. Allison was the first to find her voice. "No way. There is no way you rescued a prisoner from the yakuza, bombed their hideout, and then had them chase you halfway across the city on motorcycles."

"Remember those keys on my trophy shelf?" I responded.

"What, the ones that you keep in a glass case because…they…smell…..like…..garbage?" She said as realization hit her.

As Allison processed the shock, Cahaun turned to bartender. "Another round, on my friend here." He said. "I'm surprised they let you keep your job after you pulled that stunt."

"They almost didn't. I had to do them a very big favor before they were willing to let me stick around." I answered.

"What'd they have you do?" Asked Karaai.

"That's a story for another time, and another round." I said.


End file.
